The sick man shook his head.
“No,” he said, wistfully; “a little of the first two, perhaps, but none of the last. I know I can’t live many weeks; and it’s no use deceiving myself with false hopes.”
As “Cobbler” Horn looked at his cousin, he knew that he was not mistaken in his forecast.
“Cobbler” Horn did not remain long with his sick cousin at this time.
“There is one thing I should like,” he said gravely, as he rose from his seat.
“There is not much that I can deny you,” replied Jack; “what is it?”
He spoke without much show of interest.
“I should like to pray with you before I go.”
Cousin Jack started, and again his pale face flushed.
“Certainly,” he said, “if you wish it; but it will be of no use. Nothing is of any use now.”